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animefreak1145 · 5 months ago

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Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader xWoods)

Previous Intel | Next Intel

Sixth Intel | Watch

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman

Words: 1.6k

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You were observing for days.

Picking apart the papers, the plans, the tools they have at their disposal with Sims. Hawkish tired baggy eyes, always seeming to stray at the itch of your skin that is getting irritated from your nails than anything else. No other outside source. (Nightmare.)

It was hard for the others to cajole you out the cage you built around you, the storage room with the arcade game you used to play with but now is stock still.

Dead. A waste of energy.

(Why are you here again? Ah. Solovetsky. Always about going to Solovetsky. That’s all they need of you. They aren’t your friends. He’s not your friend.)

You even locked yourself in. To keep them out. To keep you in. Concentration. Watching. Planning. Eying.

You had a fire to your ass and this time it wasn’t Adler that caused it, (his hands around your jaw or your throat, squeezing your cheeks together unforgivingly or pressing down warningly to your carotid and air supply, Bell, open the door. He said good work. ) but instead it was your head, your thoughts, the feeling of blood pumping to your ears and grim determination clenching your jaw and hands around the pens and pencils and office supplies you have hoarded in this cage you made yourself.

You ignored how Woods cursed at you and your behavior, but your eyes couldn’t help but study his deep blue. The ocean normally with its high tides to make up for the hurricane of a man, only for it to be swimming in concern and worry on what is causing this frantic episode of yours.

The tornado of a man cursed at you with no intent, looking haggard with tired shoulders as if he was there in the cage with you. Only for them to tense when Adler, who is ice and cool and hard to read and what is that look in his eyes when he stares past your cage and into your face, tells Woods to leave you be, to let you plan the finishing touches needed for the cell tower and you will come out when you decide to.

“Stop babying her.”

“Wha—you conniving fucker,” the hurricane spat at the arctic breeze, dangerous and unbelieving wild grin upon his face. “You ordered her to do this. You think I’m going to let you dig around your dirty shitty claws around her brain again? You used the trigger phrase, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

(You talked to Woods once, that the trigger would still probably work. The lot of you have no time to deprogram a terrorist. You were concerned, worrying your lip and how easy it would be to become a mindless puppet again. Frank, all grim faced, only tugged you to him with your eyes widening as you met the gear covered chest. Safe . Secure . The immovable mountain and the chaotic hurricane turned firm like a rooted tree that shall never bend. Can you make a home here in these roots? Is he letting you? And a rumble to your ear “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that. No one will say that sentence again. Until we get you back to Washington and we’ll fix you up, you’ll be able to say the words yourself as easy as you can decode.”)

Face to face.

The storm and ice.

And, despite you wanting to see Frank punch the ever living lights out of Adler again, you stepped out the cage and intervened with a gentle yet firm hand to Woods shoulder before Mason or Sims could, back to Adler who you can feel his eyes on you.

When he glanced down in bewilderment, he met your grateful little smile playing on your lips and a shake of your head.

“It’s okay. He didn’t do any of that. I wanted to.” Woods didn’t seem to believe you, and your hand wandered from his shoulder to his wrist to do a squeeze of his hand. Woods blinked, eyes on the hold before meeting your somber ones. “We need this plan. Adler is right on the importance of this. We need that cell tower. Him and I gotta do this right with all of you. To plan with all of you. ”

Woods face began to sour right when you mentioned Adler. Glancing up to where Adler was only to sour more.

He tugged his hand away and turned his back on you. You tried to not let it affect you. (He always touches you and accepts yours like you accept his. He’s not distant.)

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just don’t…” his tone lost his gumption when he turned his face back towards you. You can spot his swallow before he waved a hand flippantly, (not the hand you touched. The hand you touched is tucked in his jacket pocket. Like a secret.) before he made a dramatic puff of air out his mouth. “Just don’t fall over dead or electrocute your brain over there.”

The joke fell flat, your brows pinched in concern and your back still itched with eyes on you.

You turned, almost missing the smug smirk Adler had around his cigarette but not missing his upturned brow when he looked at you.

He dipped his head in a semblance of a nod, nicotine smoke around them both as he breathed, “Don’t let him keep treating you like glass. You’re not made of it.”

And off he went, whisking away to his corner of the safehouse.

Your jaw clenched when his scent and presence left you, irritation building at the pretense(How would he know how you wanted to be treated? He doesn’t know you. You used to lick up those small nods as if they were ambrosia, his pride towards you like nectar. He broke you. He can’t tell you what to do.) before you went back to your cage.

Later, after your three day planning confinement, with you and Park atop a nearby building of the cell tower to study the zombie horde and the strange crystals that keep appearing like never ending amethysts, you were questioned by the MI6 agent.

Or what may be left of the MI6.

“Is Woods a wise choice, Bell?”

The question came from left field(Woods taught you that saying) and it made you take off your binoculars, your face twisted into deep befuddlement.

“What?”

Park’s face didn’t change, it was the expression where she expected no nonsense. Her attention on you and not the sniper rifle who has an impressive scope and what she should be using to watch.

“Don’t play the oblivious card, Bell. It doesn’t suit you.”

You were starting to get annoyed at the non answers. (You hate non answers. Hums that don’t mean anything or everything. You’re sick of it.)

“What are you talking about?”

Park huffed.

“This dance you’re doing with Woods. Is it genuine? Or are you trying to get back at Adler?”

Your eyes flashed, your grip on your binoculars tightening.

That’s all it goes back to. Your genuineness.

(Stop lying, Bell. Start again and tell me how you met Perseus.)

“Frank and I are genuinely friends. Just like me and Mason are.” Park’s brows pinched together and you really want to shout at her but you stick with a hissed “What?” instead.

“You’re getting that look in your eyes when you look at Woods. And don’t think we can’t all see how touchy you two are with each other. Especially with what happened earlier.” (You touched Woods hand, yours were gloved. But you still felt it. How warm he can be. The curious inquisitive side of you wanted to know what would happen if your hand was bare, what would the valley of his knuckles feel like? Would it match the mountain of a man?) “Woods is…” Park cleared her throat. “Woods is showing deep care for you. But the last thing we need is something to split the team apart. So. Is it genuine?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking through the binoculars again to dismiss her.

“Didn’t you say to give a certain man a wide berth?”

“And I’m glad for you for it. But Bell,” a hand moved stops yours, shifting the binoculars down and you were met with concerned gray eyes, a soft voice. “. . .Adler is the type of man who has a hard time giving over control. Can you honestly say you won’t fall upon his hands again if he asked?”

“Adler,” you spat, fury and rage and vindictive and hot on your chest. It made Park’s eyes widen, which made you blink and deflate and appear like the kicked bunny that you are instead of what you were before. “. . . I know what kind of man Adler is. But. . . Woods is. . . Frank is. . . ” You clenched your teeth, bowed your head. “I. . . don’t want to hurt him. . . He’s been. He’s been kind to me. He makes me laugh.”

Park’s eyes gave you a once over, assessing and scrutinizing before you felt a hand atop your shoulder. A gentle squeeze. You looked up and spotted gentle eyes to match before she focused back on her sniper and looking through it.

“It seems we may have similar taste in men, Bell.”

You glanced at her in pity.

Lazar always found a way to make her laugh.

If they achieve this, create the line again for Washington—to Weaver—than perhaps Park can find someone again.

You and Adler’s plan can’t fail.

(Adler’s protege will make a way.)

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…hahahahahaha… hi?

I’m back in the writing pit of this universe! Thank you to @makeyourpeacenow and @junkyardhound with their wondrous works in AO3 I recently discovered thanks to me trying to scour for Adler x Bell fics again. And that inspired me. And for the BO6 trailer. Where I’m back to wanting the Officially Wanted Man Russell Adler.

May this fire not die until this fic is at least completed. And than maybe I can hop back into my other Adler x Bell fic.

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121

Are any of you guys still here? I sure hope so. I miss you guys.

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animefreak1145 · 5 months ago

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Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)

Previous Intel | Next Intel

Seventh Intel | Outbreak

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Words: 2.7k

A/N: I’m really bad at drabbles. I’m trying.

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Your throat burned, a hand clawing to your neck to try to stop it.

“Sims! What’s wrong with the line to Washington?” A voice that was never your friend, or something almost more, called out from beyond the medical room(were they doing intramuscular shots? You mistaking being sore from missions but instead, it was for the lie.) Your stomach coiled low in your gut, cold sweat not faltering from creating more perspiration in your body. “You sure you dialed it right?”

“What kind of question is that, man? I can dial the number in my sleep!” He never liked you. He would stare at you like you were a stranger when your friendly eyes met his. Can a friend hurt your feelings if all they saw in you was an enemy? Your chest heaved as you sat in the gurney, you can feel Park’s hand to your back, rubbing. “Something must be going on. Hudson had to step out while we were doing this shit show. They called him when Bell was passed out.”

“Shit…” the voice, always low and gravelly and comforting and casual and—

Bile is climbing up your throat and you push Park away so doesn’t get it on her shoes. Acid in your throat and tears running down your cheeks at the forceful gags and vomit on the grey floor.

“Bell?” Park with her British accent, motherly holds your forehead up as you coughed and hacked and she shushes you in comfort before turning her attention back to the commotion outside. You can’t take this fake concern for your well being. “You don’t think Perseus sent out the signal, Adler? We would’ve been dead by now along with all of Europe.”

“No, no, it sounded like something else.” Sims replied, expression in deep critical thinking of whatever happened with Hudson—he never trusted you, why would he? You’re a Red—and his sudden disappearance. “It sounded like they were going to send a helo or aircraft for him.”

“But for what?” Russell intoned. (Too friendly. Not a first name basis. Was he playing you like a fiddle? No. A marionette.) “Hudson isn’t that much of an impatient bastard to just leave without seeing if we got an answer or not. No…this is something big.” Adler rubbed his chin before looking back up at Sims. “Did you happen to catch anything else?”

Your world turned on its axis, and no one here seems to care. Your head was bowed, hands on your knees as you were bent over. Your left eye pounding out your socket. Trying to catch your breath—catch Perseus. All for Perseus. Everyone here is a liar. Oh God. Just die why don’t you?

“You’re still one of us.”

You shook the hand he touched violently, not caring at Park’s bewildered glance at you, eyes burning and red. You wish you can keep retching, perhaps if you wretch enough your heart will climb up your throat, choking you as it temporarily blocks your airway( his hands were around the junction of your jaw, can easily press on your throat, in cruel resemblance to what happened in Lubyanka) with everyone seeing it stuck at the hollow of your throat before you finally cough it up and show you its scars, pumping on the floor weakly and bleeding as spittle went down your chin and then—and then—you’ll crush it yourself instead of the metaphorical way that Russell did.

Sims scoffed, throwing a hand to motion at you before stepping close to Adler, voice low. But you can still hear. You’re still here. This is all real?

“I couldn’t exactly get everything with Bell screaming like that. Jesus,” Sims cried, all animated and getting antsy as his arms moved towards the door of the safehouse. “he probably already left and we didn’t hear it. You didn’t have to go so hard, man!”

Your vision was swimming, but you lolled your head towards their direction, you slowly traveling up to Adler’s expression to see. And you felt like you already knew the answer as you spotted his lips in a flat line, unchanging. Stoic.

“We got the answer, didn’t we?” You closed your eyes tightly, seeing stars in the black. Hand to your left eye, as if the pressure would help having a needle jabbed into it. You heard steps come closer to you distantly. Step. Step. Step. A quiet voice. “Hey. Up and at ‘em, Bell. Let’s get you some Zofran before you keep staining the floor.”

Your eyes flew open.

“Woah!” Sims cried.

You skittered back, eyes wide and chest a drum as you fell onto the floor. Not caring if your own fluids got on you as you used your elbows and feet to stay away, head hitting the back wall with the threat of cracking your head open from the force.

Away from the hand that tried to reach out to you, the hand that just ghosted your shoulder, the hand the fed you when you couldn’t yourself back in ‘Nam due to an injury where both your arms were toast, the hand that touched your shoulders, or fingers ghosting your neck when a stray piece of hair got in front of your face, the hand that was to your cheek and pushed you onto the desk and would’ve kept going if not for the mission, the hand that gave you a needle to the eye and tortured you and disguised it as love.

You stared at the hand that was still raised, refusing to meet Adler’s eyes—you can’t, you can’t meet his eyes, that shockingly electric blue only to be met with ice if you looked—your hands clenching tightly on the ground, your jaw clenched as your expression shifted. You turned your gaze to Adler’s throat, steady and burning.

You swallowed as if you can taste it in your imagination.

“Mmm.” Adler’s hand fell and without you even looking, you can tell he’s darkly amused without even having to smirk.“We’ve known each other for years.” “What’s that look for? A bit dramatic.”

“Adler!” Park came to your defense, blocking your view from Adler and Adler to you. (Your mouth was closed, but you played the back of your teeth with your tongue. You rip my heart out, I’ll take your throat. Your chest ached, an oxymoron occurring, your drug addled mind creating a vision of you kissing his throat.) “With Bell’s mind abused as it is, we don’t need your sharp barbs to add to it. She’s suffered enough. She needs to get her energy back for Solovetsky.”

“On that, we can agree, Agent Park.” Adler cooly replied, taking out a cigarette and filling the room with the scent of it. “Just because we’re sitting ducks waiting on Washington, doesn’t mean we can’t set up everything else here on our end. Let’s—“

“—everyone stay in your homes. This is not a drill—“

Everyone started at the German woman’s voice, including you as your eyes went past Adler, past the door, to the radio by the TV you used to play with. (Huh, that’s funny. Russell really doesn’t want to hear Russian from the radio.) You saw the TV turn on, with a ring of a bell, showing soldiers and tanks and—you forcefully turned your head away before you threw up again.

“Turn up the volume, Sims.”

The trio came closer to the radio, Adler’s cigarette being abused as smoke curled above him while you slowly got up and stayed in the doorway of the medical room, eyes downcast.

“There are reports of a virus that are making people violent and aggressive. Some say cannibalistic but do not worry, for government agencies are already on top of it—“

“What? Chemical warfare…?!” Sims tsked, taking his hat off to rub his head and pace away. “I thought we were done with all that in Vietnam!”

“It would be more precisely biological warfare. Since they mentioned a virus,” Park expertly corrected, her mind going a mile a minute despite the injuries she sustained in Cuba. “This must be what Hudson got called to.”

“Bioterrorism.” Adler stated matter of factly, cigarette in his hand before he took another long and meaningful drag. Hiding his stress despite his calm mien. “A bit overkill if this is from Perseus. Right, Bell?”

You weren’t even paying attention to the call of your name, eyes wide as a realization was slowly coming over you.

Did they say…cannibalistic? Your mind flashed to that tunnel to the ground, ignoring Russell’s guidance during that trip to the hell of your mind, where you saw…you saw dead soldiers rise. Is this real?

“—it is not clear yet where this virus came from. But it is worldwide.” The group tensed. “Not only in our area of Berlin, but even in East Berlin. Poland. Italy. Spain. Ukraine. Vietnam. The United Kingdom and the United States. All with the same. People violent and aggressive whoever is infected. Don’t leave your homes or if you found a safe area, stay in it until help comes. Care packages are already being organized for everyone until this lockdown is done—“

Park turned on the TV, you hearing the static before it flashed on, the emergency broadcast signal on and piercing your ears with the alarm. But you can look at the TV now that it is on(not on from your imagination, your mind, “damaged goods.”)

“Find another channel,” Adler commanded, voice growing tense along with his shoulders, but Park was already on it.

Flipping through channels with the same broadcast emergency signal, some with text in the bottom saying the same thing the woman in the radio was, before finally there was one with a camera that was knocked over in the street. All the view they could get was a puddle of blood, of screams and cries and of guttural groans and moans and—is this real? Are you awake? Are you still in the gurney?

“Oh sweet baby Jesus, Mary and ever fuckin’ Joseph!” Sims cursed, eyes blown and wide and you think this is it. Sims therapy sessions and the work they’ve done have gone out the window because the soldier seems to be cracking at the seams, and him holding his head is what’s keeping him together. “Is this shit real?” Before he finished asking, he stepped up to the TV, Park moving to give him way as he changed through channels himself. Showing the same. Except one showed a person on the floor, dead and lifeless but with what appeared to be three people crouched over them and eating their guts, blood around their mouth and disgusting slurps could be heard.

Something was stirring in Adler’s mind, you could tell even from the distance, the way he pauses with the cigarette to his mouth. The way he tilts his head lazily just so in your direction.

Please. Don’t.

“Sims.” Adler called and the call brought Sins out of his fearful stupor, blinking it away and trying to be the soldier he was back in MACV-SOG. “Remind me. What was Scenario 17?”

“What—Russ, you gotta be fucking joking.” Sims made a motion to the TV, pointing animatedly at it as he went on. “You can’t be serious right now. We have more important things going on than the hoops and jumps we did for Bell!”

“Right. But something is itching at me about all that,” Russell toned, casual and that’s where your heart was starting to thunder because it was the forceful casual. Your back met the wall outside the medical room, and you wished to be swallowed in it because no, no, no. “Scenario 17 was one of the scenarios where Bell entered a tunnel which eventually would’ve been one of the paths to enter that red door she created in her mind for Perseus. But something…unknown occurred during it.”

“You mean how she wasn’t following your instructions like the good little American you created her to be?” Park sarcastically quipped, arms crossed. “Shocking indeed. How irritating for the one forced to heel decides to bite back.”

“Funny.” Adler replied, poker faced. “No. I’m talking about what Bell kept saying over and over when it was happening, what she was seeing, until she said…”(“The dead is rising, they’re rising, and chasing me in the tunnels and I can’t see and I can’t—my pistol can’t get them all and the dead killed me! The dead killed me! The dead killed me!” ) Park’s and Sims eyes swam in recollection gazes towards you but that’s not the ones you’re concerned about. Adler turned his shaded gaze towards you and pinned you to the wall. Russell didn’t need to choke you with his hands, his presence felt from a few feet was starting to choke you. “Bell. Throw me a bone here. You know anything about this? I couldn’t help but notice the radio didn’t mention Russia as one of the countries attacked.”

“How would I?” Adler’s lips only pressed together in disbelief, the ghost of disappointment being seen by your eyes and the look made your chest ache but—why are you aching and hurting for that man? (Rip his disappointment out with your hands.) “Please. Believe me, Adler! I don’t—I don’t know why I saw that—I didn’t see any of this mentioned behind the Red Door with Perseus! It—it must’ve been just a nightmare from everything with Vietnam! Please!”

Please don’t do that again, your crying eyes begged, trying to meet his eyes but is it for naught for America’s Monster who smells blood in the water? And what blood you have.

That irresistible Red.

“I wanna believe you, Bell,” Adler began, friendly and walking up to you. (Can someone kill me? Let me out from this nightmare!) “You’re still one of us after all. So I see no reason why you would lie or hold out anymore on us either. But…” Adler stood in front of you, a mere foot away but to you it was as if he was over you in the gurney again, hand to your throat, to your jaw, to squeezing your cheeks together cruelly. “That sounds awful lot like a coincidence. You know my views on perfect coincidences, Bell.”

You’re stuck.

He’s gonna stick you again and Park and Sims won’t stop him. He got them on his side perfectly. Had the perfect set up. (Beethoven with lightning across his face and the keys he pressed created perfected thunder.) Park may be smart, but she can easily become his piece on the board if handled right. (A mere music note in this elaborate play. What a character you are.) And what are you, really? A disposable red pawn that even isn’t supposed to be here.

You’re stuck about getting stuck with another needle and damn it all, you would do the same thing.

“Bell?” Your breath hitched, seeing he was closer and your chests were almost touching, ghosting and his head was over yours and—what you would’ve done to have this before—“Come on. What’s it gonna be?” His breath ghosted your face, nicotine heavy and he must’ve thrown the cigarette down at one point because it’s gone but all you taste and smell is his scent and you looked up, hopelessly lost, despair marring you, that itch of violence deafened when he’s so close—you can perfectly see the shape of his eyes and the color from here and that itch is back, snatch the shades and reach your hands to his eyes and scoop them out— Adler rose a brow above his shades, humored intrigue (there’s something else stirring in those eyes that can be deceivingly soft) as his voice lowered so the others wouldn’t hear. Like a secret. “There’s that look again. Even now, at this very moment, Bell? You should go get checked out.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. (What does he see?) Because there was a shot that rang out outside. Multiple shots. And than crash against the side garage door of the safehouse. All of you jumping, pulse hammering in your necks as you all moved a step. What could it be? Is it one of those dead?

“Y’all better be fucking alive in there and open this fuckin’ door right now!”

You gasp, stilling.

Woods.

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A/N: A little peek into Bell’s mind post MK Ultra, LSD, Adrenaline(jeez, how many drugs they laced them with?) sticks and reveal. Mix that with the reveal of zombies and even possibly being the cause for COD zombies storyline—it’s a bad time for Bell. A lot of conflicting voices and emotions in her heart and head.

Adler here, if one can’t tell from past chapters, is really toxic in this story. Epitome of Dark!Adler mixed with “softness”.

I’m not gonna shy away from Park’s and Sim’s roles as well with Bell. We can put all the blame on Adler as a fandom as much as we want, but I blame everyone else as well for allowing him to be so openly harsh on Bell. Hope you enjoyed!

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121 @pyxis-stellae @makeyourpeacenow @obsessedgremlin

You have to tell me if you want me to tag you for each update or else I won't know. Or if you wish to be removed.

#russell adler #call of duty #black ops cold war #cod #cod cold war #church bells #writing bell #cod bell #frank woods #alex mason #helen park #russell adler x bell #russell adler x reader #frank woods x bell #frank woods x reader #cod zombies #Lawrence sims #Grigori weaver #jason hudson

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